“I am. We'll get together this afternoon; and you can pretend that I am your father. ‘I should not dream of forcing my attentions on you. ‘And how do you propose to get in?’ ‘Scullery window. Do you know, Lady Ferringhall, I am proud that your sister permits me to call myself her friend. “It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister,” Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped.
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